Hellraisers: The Thirteenth Evil Child’s Nightmare
by Oni Senpai
Summary: I love horror films and I love crossovers. So, to help me cut my writing teeth, I decided to write this: Hellraisers! I started it a while ago so let me know if you have any suggestions to help me improve anything. Rated 'M' for language and violence.
1. 0

The depths of the warehouse where obscured to Nicky as he pressed on through the darkness. He was young, not yet out of his teens, and wore a hooded jacket pulled up tight over his head. There were pools of light within the cavernous space. Light from the city above was falling through the tattered roof but not enough to show him his way clearly. Water fell through the rents in the ceiling too, the drops forming pools, the sound of water echoing around the empty chamber.

Nicky kept to the shadows as he proceeded, avoiding the dull, slanting light. He arrived at a set of steel steps and, climbing them two at a time, followed a gantry around and up a further set of steps. At the end of the landing he reached a metal door. Nicky slammed his hand into the door several times, and waited. Nothing. He listened to his own breathing, and the echoes of sounds in the warehouse below. He knocked again and heard a bolt scrape on the other side of the door. It opened a fraction. Lowering his gaze Nicky made out the barrel of a gun in the gloom. It was pointing straight at his chest. There was a moment of tension, then a sigh and the door was opened wide.

"Fuck, Martin! Where'd you get _that_?"

Nicky stepped in through the door passing another figure, Martin. He was taller than Nicky, and lanky, smiling broadly as he scratched his closely shaved head with the muzzle of a pistol.

"My Dad's cabinet," Martin replied, letting his arm and the pistol drop to his side. "What took you so long?"

Nicky rounded on Martin, prodding his finger into his friend's chest.

"Do you know you are really shit at giving directions?" he asked.

"Maybe it's that you're no good at following them."

Both Nicky and Martin turned at the new voice. Nicky recognised it as Heather's. She walked towards them from the other side of the room, emerging form the shadows, her short blond hair bobbing with each step.

"Have you got it?" she asked standing hand on hip. Nicky grinned lopsidedly.

"Yeah." He raised a bundle he had been carrying and pulled back the layers of cloth. What was left in the palm of his hand was a small box, dark in colour and each side intricately detailed in gold. Heather's eyes lit up and fixed on the box.

"But it wasn't easy," finished Nicky, the grin getting a little bigger. Heather raised her eyes from the box and fixed Nicky's gaze.

"Well I'll have to make it up to you later, won't I?" she purred. Nicky began to reach out to her but she held up a finger playfully.

"Ah ah! Later. The others are waiting. Now you're here, we can start."

Seven people all sat cross-legged in a circle. They all faced the little box in the centre being held by an eighth person, Heather. She was turning the little box over and over, pressing parts of the pattern, running her fingers along its lines. Nicky was getting restless. They had been like this for half an hour now. His joints were starting to ache and he was beginning to think that this whole thing was a stupid idea.

"Can we at least put some music on?" asked one of the others. Nicky didn't know him but he had seen him around school. He guessed he had come with one of the girls.

"Be patient I'm nearly there," whispered Heather. She sounded far away, concentrating intently on the box in her hands.

"This better be pretty fucking amazing, Heather!" said a girl directly behind Heather. Nicky guessed from the tone of her voice that he wasn't the only one getting bored.

"Just hang on," said Heather, who sounded impatient this time. Whether it was because of the box or the interruptions Nicky didn't know.

Then Martin got up.

"Screw this. I don't see how dicking around with some puzzle box is going to reveal the darkest 'pleasures of the flesh' to us anyway. Don't know why I even decided to come." He turned to Nicky. "Thanks, dickweed," he snarled.

"Fuck you!" Nicky couldn't see why Marty was chewing him out, "It's not like I held a fucking gun to your head!"

The argument stalled when there was a loud click from the centre of the circle. They both turned to see Heather holding the box aloft with an expression somewhere between joy and bemusement.

"I think I got it," she said.

No one in the room moved. The only noise was the background sound of the city.

Heather lowered the box and looked at it in disgust.

"What now then?" asked someone.

The box flew out of her hand and landed on the floor, spinning round. A part of it slid upwards, turned and slotted back into a different place. Then it stopped dead, remaining motionless. Everyone gazed at it, waiting for more. Martin slowly reached for his gun.

"Did you do that?" he asked. There was never a reply.

Chains shot from the box, their ends tipped with cruel barbs. They embedded themselves in Martin, blood staining his clothes. He stood wide eyed, not even breathing. The gun dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor. No one else in the room moved. They just stood, watching, not comprehending what was happening. Then there was the scream as the pain hit Martin. It went on for what felt like some time. Then the chains became taught and dragged him to the floor where he writhed and squirmed. The scream stopped there, becoming a whimper. Even that sound stopped too when the chains dragged him into the box, his body twisting and contorting, bone snapping, muscle tearing, so it would fit through one of the sides. Once he had disappeared, leaving only a bloody smear on the concrete floor, one of the girls screamed. Heather struggled backwards away from the box, one of the other boys got to his feet. Nicky didn't move. He was the first to see the chains rise up again and catch two of the others. The screams came again, mixing with each other. As more of the group were dragged towards the box, Nicky caught sight of Heather, huddled against the opposite wall and sobbing, tears mingling with makeup and leaving black trails down her face. The screams went on as the chains kept lashing out again and again, ferrying the hapless teenagers to their deaths. Nicky became aware of the room changing; almost hyper-aware. It was as if time had slowed, his terrified mind allowing him to take in every horrific detail. He snapped his head back and forth as around him the room itself began to change. Pillars covered in spikes and nails hung with human flesh had appeared out of nowhere. Chains now dangled from the ceiling, dripping with blood. A fetid stench reached his nose, a putrid smeall of death. Nicky felt vomit rushing up his throat, the sting of bile at the back of his mouth. He doubled over, gagging. When he looked up again the chains had stopped and only he and Heather were left. The wall behind her was warping and distorting. Light shone from cracks that appeared in its changing face. Nicky shouted out to Heather. Beckoning her towards him, but his words were lost in the roar of wind that now filled the room. The chains began to swing back and forth, the sound of them knocking into one another curiously loud.

Heather began to crawl in Nicky's direction. His stomach twisted with fear as he watched the wall behind Heather fall away, a chasm opening up, flooding the room in brilliant light. Near blinded Nicky could just see Heather disappear into the light, dragged away as chains from the void found her. Nicky screamed but the noise was again lost in the maelstrom. He tried to get to his feet but his legs would not support him. He had to sit helpless to await his fate. It didn't take long to arrive. It strode out from the light, with an elegant gait that almost seemed like it was floating. The light began to fade and Nicky could start to focus on this new arrival. The creature wore a gown that bore a striking resemblance to a butcher's apron, smeared as it was in dried blood. Its upper body was wrapped in leather, though raw wounds on its chest were left uncovered and were actually held open with hooks. But this was mostly lost on Nicky who was transfixed by the creatures face, no the daemon's face. Its skull white head was devoid of hair but covered in pins, driven into the bone. Its eyes were dark and terrible pits into this nightmare's soulless mind.

"Nicky," it rumbled.

Hearing his name from this daemon's mouth made something click in Nicky's mind. He snapped out of his terrified stupor. He turned and grabbed Martin's gun. He swivelled and levelled it at the daemon in front of him. In response it just cocked its head minutely to one side; a child fascinated by the struggles of an insect. Nicky grimaced and squeezed off a round; two rounds; three. The daemon's body shuddered with each impact but he showed no signs of discomfort. The fourth bullet changed that. Its head snapped back, arms raised slightly, its whole body becoming rigid. Nicky had hit the thing in the face, just above the left eye.

"Eat that motherfucker!"

No sooner had the words left Nicky's lips than the chains came again. They went for his hands, snagging on bone and tendon stretching his appendage. Nicky dropped the gun. Through tears he saw the daemon straighten up. The wound in its head was sealing up, the pins sprouting from reformed flesh and bone. In a moment it was whole again and staring at him with a terrible coldness. It opened its mouth and spat out four bullets that dropped to the floor.

"Now may we talk?" it asked. There was no trace of emotion in that voice, neither annoyance nor enjoyment. Nicky was too preoccupied trying to control the pain that was pulsing up his arm from his tattered hand to answer properly. He could only whimper.

"I don't want to hurt you Nicky," the creature carried on. It began to pace around the helpless boy, and then said without any change in tone, "not yet. There are things I would like to show you if you would permit me. Sensations beyond your wildest imaginings and certainly beyond what you are feeling now. Would you hear me out?"

The chains holding Nicky's hand retracted, allowing him to curl up on the floor cradling his ravaged limb. The gun went with them, skittering across the floor, dragged by bloodied hooks.

"Glorious isn't it?" the daemon asked, still circling. "The bitter sweetness of agony. This is a shadow of what you could have Nicky. Pleasures beyond your worst nightmares. Such exquisite torment like none of your kind has ever experienced. But first I wish to make a deal."

Despite the pain Nicky found himself listening to the daemon. Worse, he found himself interested. It went on:

"There is something I need which only you can give me. These others," he indicated the brown smears on the floor, "were too weak to be of use to me in this matter. But in you… I saw potential."

Nicky could feel his blood soaking into his clothes. A warmth spreading from his wounds. He looked up at the daemon fixing its gaze, sweat dripping form his face onto the floor, mixing with his blood. He felt light-headed and could barely believe what he was doing, but he thought it was right.

"What do you want me to do?" he said shakily.

The merest hint of a grin flashed across the daemon's pale face. And it turned to indicate the box that was still sitting on the floor where it had fallen.

"All you must do is hand me the box." It said but did not turn away from the little cube.

"That's it?" rasped Nicky.

"Give me the box and the entire spectrum of experience will be yours to enjoy for eternity."

Nicky pulled himself to his feet and staggered over to the box. With his good hand he reached down and picked it up. He raised it to look at it closely. It looked like a harmless trinket, a novelty item, but he guessed it was so much more.

"I just have to hand you this?" he said, hefting it slightly.

"Just give it to me." The daemon replied levelly. But in its eyes there was an unmistakable hunger.

"What are you anyway? Why do you need the box?"

"Hand it over and I will show you."

Nicky felt a hunger of his own. A hunger for forbidden delights. He reached out and placed the box in the daemon's waiting hands, which closed over it as if it were a fragile, little bird.

"Thank you Nicky." It turned and began to walk away. Behind it there was a brief yelp and then the wet noises of fraying flesh landing on concrete. Chains rattled as they lashed out at flesh again and again.

The cenobite strolled out of the door and along the walkways, its face impassive. It continued down the stairs, across the deserted warehouse floor and out into the night, drizzle giving everything a greasy sheen. The creature raised it head to look at the surroundings, unblinking against the shower. Beyond a raised and crumbling arm of concrete, above the decaying remnants of a long abandoned settlement was the Earth's grandest city. There were hundreds of shimmering monoliths the largest being the corporate buildings, bedecked with signs, lights and logos of every colour. They surrounded a vast structure that continued up beyond the peaks of even the highest buildings, climbing into the dark clouds towards the stars beyond. The lights of the metropolis were reflected in the cenobite's eyes, like a constellation of ethereal stars in the uniform black. The sounds of activity reached him on the cold breeze, the occasional flying vehicle shooting overhead at tremendous speed, the occasional sweep of an accompanying searchlight throwing the area into stark shadow. The coenobite lowered its gaze to the box. It had much to do, much to plan, and much to discover. But first there was the flesh and the pain. He turned and went back into the warehouse to finish the initiation of Nicky.


	2. 1

**1.**

The dead forest held monsters behind every tree. Sometimes they were the trees. Gaunt white shapes against a blood red sky flecked with ashen clouds and a rotten, yellow moon. Roots from the trees drove through the layer of small bones that covered the ground, their previous owners cried in the distance. And He darted from trunk to trunk, keeping in the shadows, out of sight.

Jenny, her young face lit sickly pale in the yellow light, stood in the clearing and observed the dread shapes with a casual disinterest. A breeze ruffled her auburn hair but did not chill her despite her wearing only a clinical sleeping gown. It was not the first time she had been here. She decided on a direction and set off and walked, her feet crushing the tiny, brittle bones of powder. It was always the same. As she reached the trees there was a path leading off between them. She could see things scurrying across it, and His yellow eyes bobbing in the distance, fading as he retreated deeper into the woods. She followed Him… again.

As Jenny walked the path she saw something lying in her way. On her many previous visits to this place she had never seen anything lying in the path. Genuinely interested she walked on, looking down at the little shape. It was an old and battered hat that formed from the darkness. She gazed at it wondering where it had come from. It had never appeared before. Nudging it with her toe Jenny recoiled slightly as a many jointed scuttled from underneath and fled to the safety of the macabre undergrowth. She reached down and picked up the hat. It was perfectly normal, an archaic design with a wide brim. Nothing else hid in its depths. It was simply a battered old hat. It was then that she felt hot breath on her neck. Spinning around Jenny looked into His yellow, bloodshot eyes. They creased in a grin as she felt cold steel in her gut.

Jenny sat up quickly panting for breath, drenched in sweat. Her hands flew to her stomach, expecting to feel warm, liquid flowing from open wounds… She felt only her own deep breathing.

"Bad dream, hon?"

Jenny looked around into the dark face of the Major. Flicking her eyes back and forth Jenny saw she was still in the sleep chamber, sitting up in her deep sleep pod, the pads of the monitoring equipment dangling from her temples, and arms. She nodded, trying to work saliva back into her mouth, her hand going to her head.

The Major, crouching next to her sleep tube, was an older woman than Jenny, tall and sleek, body honed by a life in conflict, her chocolate coloured skin scarred by those same struggles. She stood up slowly, her movements reminding Jenny of a cat stretching.

"The deep sleep does that to some people. I can't remember the last time I didn't have bad dreams. Come on. The ship has brought us round. It's time to meet our employer."

Jenny was helped from the sleeping pod. Elsewhere in the deep sleep chamber other members of the crew were clambering from their pods and retrieving their belongings from lockers.

"Goddam civilians," laughed a stocky man as he reached into a locker. His curly black hair was receding and it revealed a long scar running down the side of his head to stop just above his left eye.

"Stow it, Argento!" the Major commanded. "It's too early to start with that. She'll be fine in a few minutes."

"We ain't got a few minutes!" shouted a younger man from the other side of the chamber. "If this panel is correct we're late being brought out of sleep. We're almost at the space-dock."

"You sure, Bradley?" the Major asked.

Jenny crossed to the view-screen, seeming to not hear David Bradley's voice as he tried to explain the situation to the Major. She looked instead at the picture on the screen. The vast orbital docking platform, its thick column extending down from the space station to be anchored on the Earth's surface was picked out against the distant stars. It seemed to Jenny like a huge mechanical flower against a backdrop of the cosmos. The screen flickered and the image changed to that of a face, gaunt and unshaven. Eyebrows were raised as Jenny's picture obviously filled the man's own screen.

"Morning, love!" he leered.

"That will be _"Morning, Miss Curtis"_ in the future, Kirzinger," said the Major, gently moving Jenny aside to stand in front of the screen herself. "And I prefer Major Holland. But you _know_ that. What's happening out there?" she asked.

"The _Raiser's_ computer was a bit late in bringing us out of deep sleep," replied Kirzinger, still grinning dirtily. "I've told Koji and Alice to get it sorted. Anyway, we're docking in two minutes. As much as it pains me t'say it, yourself and the delightful Miss Curtis better get your gear on. Same goes for the rest of you bastards too."

Behind them Argento blew a theatrical kiss in the screen's direction, Bradley just shook his head, grinning. The Major smiled slightly as well.

"Not able to touch yourself up during deep sleep, Kirzinger?"

The pilot's face twitched, his eyes flicking down and up.

"Like I said… we dock in two."

The view-screen switched back to the docking array and the Major turned away to go to her equipment locker. Bradley cocked his head quizzically at Jenny as she ran her hand down the screen, not paying any attention to anyone else in the room.

"Wakey wakey," he said.

Jenny started and turned around. Her eyes darted around the room before settling on Bradley.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Jenny grinned and nodded.

"I've just… never seen it before," she said turning back to the screen.

"What? The platform?" Bradley asked.

"Earth…" Jenny said in faraway tones. Bradley raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but the words were drowned out. A wailing siren began in the chamber, accompanied by a red flashing light.

"Kirzinger!" shouted the Major, bracing herself against a structural beam as the ship lurched. She managed to haul herself back over to the view screen.

"What's with the proximity alarm? What's going on," she cried, hammering at the intercom controls. As she did so the alarm abruptly stopped. Kirzinger's was no longer grinning, his confused expression appeared on the screen.

"Er… Not sure about that one. Just a malfunction, I guess. I got no visuals and the computer's reading negative again. I'd only just touched the controls… There was nothing out there…" He shook his head, looking at his readouts, genuinely not understanding what had happened. The Major nodded slowly. Jenny knew that although Kirzinger was undoubtedly an asshole, he was also a top notch pilot. _Two computer errors in a row and we haven't even arrived yet, _she thought. _Maybe this job was a mistake_. The Major's voice brought her back into the sleeping chamber.

"Okay, just get us into dock and we'll have Koji go through all the systems while Alice strips down the computer core. It's about time for a spring clean."

Kirzinger nodded and the screen went black…

Outside the ship slid slowly towards the vast docking array. The word _Hell Raiser_ was painted in chipped red paint on the pockmarked hull. Lights flickered in the traditional request for docking clearance, though this was only a formality. Electronic messages shot back and forth through the void, making sure that the docking would barely be felt onboard the ship. As the docking sequence got underway, if one were to look very carefully with the correct kind of equipment from one of the space platform's many viewing galleries, the star field behind the ship shimmered briefly and then retuned to normal.


	3. 2

**2.**

A ghost moved amongst the shadows of walkways long forgotten. A cenobite glided down a set of metal steps. There was only the faintest sound from his footfalls, his movements so languid that the dust of decades was hardly disturbed. Occasionally the light, stuttering in and out of life, illuminated the cenobite's ashen features and the shining metal of the pins driven into its skull. These were a stark contrast to the soiled remnants of structures that surrounded him. He had travelled in this gloom for much time now. The city of the future, bright with light, polished alloy and plastic, concealed an ancient world of dead complexes far below. Most would have lost track of the distance they had travelled by this point; the depth they had reached; yet the cenobite knew exactly where he was going. These seemingly endless labyrinths of twisted ruins paled in comparison to the alternate world with which he was acutely familiar.

The rusted gratings above the daemon's head disappeared, as did the pockmarked bulkheads on either side. The creature looked about at the huge cavern that it had entered. He had reached his destination. A shame, as he had taken a certain pleasure in being allowed to wander freely for the first time in many, many centuries. He continued to glide forward, though his path was now littered with petrified plant matter. All around him were the grey and brittle husks of trees, their branches in tatters, most now lying broken upon the floor. A little further and the ground began to slope down, away into darkness, though that was of no consequence to the eyes of a daemon. He stood at the edge of a vast pit, the bottom of which was filled with the damp sludge. Continuing still further and the creature received more evidence that he had reached his intended location. A sign, barely legible after an age of abandonment, read:

Camp Crystal Lake Bio Dome

A little piece of nature in the metropolis of tomorrow…

The cenobite grinned.

"Can't be far now," he said to himself, though his eyes roamed in the shadows around him.

A noise found its way to the cenobite's ears. There was a movement in the trees above. Turning slowly, eyes half closed as if in boredom, the daemon looked up to see a large, jagged rock plummeting downwards towards him. Immediately the chains shot forth and ensnared the boulder, stopping its descent and flinging it aside. Then came the true attacker. With a thud that sent up a cloud of dust a huge creature dropped from the shadows above, his thick body of rotten flesh was wrapped in tattered and filthy rags. Straightening up slowly the hulking shape strode towards the coenobite. A rusted blade was clutched in his hand, an expressionless white mask was strapped about his face. So long had he apparently worn this mask that the flesh of his face, twisted with decay, now seemed to have reformed around the mask, fusing it to his skull. There was no roar of challenge, no shouted threats to accompany the advance. There was only sound was the creature's heavy footfalls.

The cenobite cocked his head at the new arrival, completely unconcerned as the blade was raised, ready for a crushing blow. The flesh hooks bit into the putrid flesh, hooking around bone, binding the arm against any movement. Still more barbed chains came to haul the struggling behemoth off the ground.

"Jason Voorhes!" The coenobite peered up at the black eyeholes as if searching for something. In reply the chains rattled as Jason made a renewed effort to break free and detach the cenobite's head from its body. More chains shot out to restrain him.

"Impressive, but even you will find it impossible to break these bonds…"

Jason's struggles became less frantic, though it seemed so that he could focus completely on forcing the restraints. The cenobite continued, totally at ease and speaking slowly.

"I will not waste words were I know they will not be appreciated, Jason. I came to offer you a deal. Your home," with raised arms the daemon indicated the dead forest, "has been undisturbed for centuries. However I can dismantle your Camp Crystal Lake and you would be powerless to hinder me. Thus…"

The chains swayed and then whipped back and forth with tremendous power, sending Jason flying, hurtling through the air. The juggernaut hit the wooden sign, it disintegrating, barely altering his flight. With a crack he crumpled against a tree, the ancient forest giant cracking and splitting with the impact. It crashed to the ground a cloud of ancient dust sweeping outward. As it cleared Jason lurched to his feet, almost quivering with barely constrained rage. It remained impotent however as the cenobite's chains once again wrapped themselves around his undead limbs and held him powerless in the air. The cenobite approached, speaking as he did so.

"That is just a taste, the faintest shadow of the havoc I could foment here. For all your merciless power, you will find you are no match for me."

With a sudden mighty effort Jason got a hand to the daemon's throat. He closed his fist crushing bone and tendon, twisting the cenobite's head at an unnatural angle. Hooks lashed out and Jason released his grip as they tore at his arm. With a dull, wet sound the coenobite rolled its head back onto its shoulders to look back into Jason's mask.

"Maybe I have underestimated you. How about an ulterior means of persuasion…"

With a creaking of leather the cenobite raised his arm. At the end of his fingers were metal barbs, identical to those of the chains. Slowly he moved his hand towards the mask, Jason still struggling. With a quick movement he slid the hooks into the mask's eye holes, a soft wet sound accompanying the act. Jason's body went rigid.

The cenobite's eyes moved behind closed lids for a moment and then opened, though his face remained impassive. He spoke, though his voice was that of a woman.

"Jason! Jason, my special boy! Be still while mommy tells you a story…"

Jason slumped into inactivity, dangling limp in the chains that still held him in the air. A grin spread over the cenobite's face.


End file.
